


Puppy Tails - Too Hot

by Aurora_bee



Series: Puppy tails [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Humour, M/M, Puppies, solo sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a warm day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gladstone lay on the floorboards, they were cool. The flat was too hot today. The ‘hottest day since’ 1978 dad had said. Dad had a white and brown stripy t-shirt and a pair of cream combat shorts on. Gladstone watched as he slipped on a pair of shoes. Why was he putting more clothes on when it was so hot? Gladstone would never understand Humans. Uncle Sherlock hadn’t come out of his bedroom yet, Gladstone wondered if he’d be wearing his heavy suit as usual.

Dad looked into the fridge sighing loudly. He picked up something fleshy in a bag, put it back and took out the milk. Looked like dad was going to clean the fridge out again. Funnily enough though the milk never got thrown away. Dad put the kettle on and a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. He looked down at Gladstone and smiled.

“I think we need to get out of here today. Freezer department of ASDA sounds ideal.” He grinned as his toast popped out. He buttered it put it on a plate and looked for a place to sit. The microscope was on the table again, so no room for breakfast. He put his plate on the side of the sink and made his tea. Dad walked across to the sofa as uncle Sherlock made his appearance.

“You’re up then.” He said as he turned around, then he dropped his plate of toast on the floor.

“Yes, I am awake.” Said uncle Sherlock as dad stared. Uncle Sherlock stood in front of them in a pair of tiny pants.

 

“John? John are you ok?” Sherlock asked as he moved toward John concerned. John stepped back nearly falling over the coffee table, and snapped to his senses.

“Sherlock why the hell are you wearing a pair of Speedos around the flat? Hell, why have you got a pair of Speedos?” Sherlock grinned.

“Obviously it’s hot John, and I do like to swim occasionally.” John picked up his toast and watched as Sherlock sat in John’s chair, the only one in the flat not leather. Leather and hot skin did not go together. He smirked, thinking about the cream he would have had to apply. John threw his toast in the bin and sat opposite Sherlock. He was not going to miss one second of this.

“Do you actually own anything you could wear in summer?” John looked down the pale body. Thinking about how Sherlock’s clothes fitted, hiding so much, how muscular he was, not overtly but fit. John shook his head trying to rid himself of those thoughts. 

“I have a Hawaiian costume somewhere, but people tend to stare.” John coughed.

“You’re not planning to go out dressed like that are you?” Sherlock scowled.

“I’m not going out today.” It was John’s turn to scowl now.

“Come on Sherlock it’s too hot in here. What about a walk to the park? Gladstone is feeling pretty miserable.” Gladstone lifted his head and panted. “I know you own a T-shirt Sherlock, you could at least wear that.” Sherlock gave him a disgusted look. Then sat back his hands in a prayer position under his chin.

“I have an idea.” Sherlock looked at the phone. “Hire us a car, an air conditioned one. I’ll take you somewhere interesting. Bring your swimming trunks.” Sherlock slouched off toward his bedroom to get changed.

 

John hired a Lexus, he supposed it was the hairdresser in him coming to the surface. It was roomy enough for Gladstone and his doggy safely belt, and it had Air conditioning. If something went wrong he would happily sit there in it all day.

He’d just packed a bag with his trunks and some towels when the car arrived. He called to Sherlock who appeared looking rather normal. A plain grey T-shirt and black jeans, same shoes as usual.

“Car’s arrived Sherlock.” Sherlock stood waiting for John as he put Gladstone’s puppy harness on.

“You really should learn to drive you know.” John looked up to him.

“I can’t Sherlock, psychosomatic limp remember, and my shoulder. They won’t give me a licence.” John smiled, it was a nice change not to have to do everything. John threw the keys toward Sherlock, who caught them without even looking. Sherlock huffed and walked down the stairs. John walked down shortly afterward carrying Gladstone.

 

Gladstone really liked the air conditioning. He’d settled down into the back seat and fallen asleep in 5 minutes. John watched the countryside fly past.

“Where are we going Sherlock?” Sherlock kept his eyes on the road.

“Home.” John looked confused. Sherlock rolled his eyes. “My childhood home John.” John still looked confused.

“Why are we going there Sherlock?” Sherlock smiled, looking toward John.

“You’ll see.”

 

They drove up to a huge set of wrought iron gates. Sherlock leaned out the window and spoke to the intercom.

“Could you let me in?” A voice squeaked excitedly through the intercom.

“Mr Sherlock!” The doors opened slowly and John looked over toward Sherlock who was blushing.

“Mrs Welling, our housekeeper she’s always been fond of me for some reason.” He didn’t look at John.

They drove up a driveway that seemed exceptionally long and arrived at a large portico. The house was humongous grey brick with huge two story windows. Flowers surrounded them, perfectly manicured. It was stunningly beautiful. Several people were waiting outside. Sherlock got out of the car and was swamped by a plump 70 year old lady. He hugged her as she squeezed him.

“It’s so lovely to see you Mr Sherlock. You should visit more often.” He stood back and smiled. John got out of the car and opened the back door to get Gladstone out. “Oh my.” Mrs Welling exclaimed. “Is this your partner Mr Sherlock, oh my, you’ve met somebody.” Sherlock placed his hand on her arm as John looked at her stunned.

“No Mrs Welling, this is my friend Dr John Watson.” Mrs Welling sighed and shook John’s hand. She looked disappointed.

“I’m very glad to meet you Dr Watson. A friend of Mr Sherlock will always be welcome.” She smiled, and looked down at Gladstone who was wagging his tail. “And who’s this little one.” She asked, stroking him. John smiled and introduced her to Gladstone.

“This is Gladstone Watson.” He smiled and Sherlock interjected.

“Watson-Holmes. He’s our dog John.” Mrs Welling’s eyes lit up, she saw something.

“Will you all be staying the night?” She asked.

“No.” Sherlock replied. “We have to get back to London.”

 

The swimming pool situated at the back of the house was amazing. It had a graduated slope in and a Jacuzzi attached to the side. John had taken his t-shirt off and was handed a bottle of sun screen by Mrs Welling and told to make Sherlock cover himself or he would burn. Sherlock had stripped down in to his Speedos in front of them. Mrs Welling insisted that John rub the cream on Sherlock’s back. She had a frozen shoulder apparently and couldn’t reach. John eyed her suspiciously, as he applied the cream to Sherlock’s soft ivory back.

Gladstone was running free and enjoying chasing his ball around in the water. Sherlock was swimming in the deep end going too and fro. John sat on a sun bed, sighing happily, this was a good day. Mrs Welling brought out a tray with some glasses filed with ice, chilled beer, and a big bowl of water for Gladstone. John had a beer as Sherlock got out of the water.

“Enjoying yourself John?” Asked Sherlock with a smile. John looked at Sherlock’s shoulders when he sat beside him, there was something different about them.

“What.” John grabbed Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock pulled away. “You have freckles, god Sherlock you’re covered.” Sherlock draped a towel around his shoulders.

“Yes I know.” He said embarrassed. John couldn’t help but laugh.

“All the things in the world, you’re rude, annoying, rude.”

“You said rude twice John.” Sherlock replied his mouth twitching at the corner.

“It needed re-iterating. Anyway you’re embarrassed about them?!!” Sherlock looked down at the freckles appearing on his arm.

“Mycroft used to call me the human freckle. I’m the only one in the family with them.” John smiled.

“I think they’re nice Sherlock. They make you look healthier.” Sherlock grinned and moved closer to John.

 

The car wouldn’t start. They’d spent far too long swimming and enjoying themselves and now it was 10pm and the car wouldn’t start. Sherlock tried it again, but it died. 

“Don’t you have a mechanic Sherlock?” Sherlock shook his head. “Can you drive one of the cars on the estate?” John asked.

“Mycroft won’t allow it after I nearly killed myself in the E type Jag. He won’t insure me for the other cars either.” He sighed. “Would you mind staying the night?” John shook his head.

“I don’t mind, it is pretty late.” John yawned and got out of the car. Mrs Welling walked over.

“Is everything alright Dr Watson?” Sherlock lifted a sleeping rather floppy Gladstone out of the back seat.

“The car won’t start. Would it be possible to say after all?” Mrs Welling wrung her hands.

“Of course. But I’m afraid most of the staff have gone home or are in bed. If you had said earlier I would have got another room ready. I’m afraid Mr Sherlock’s room is the only one made up.” John looked over at Sherlock.

“It has a huge bed John, it shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t mind sharing.” Sherlock looked down at Gladstone. “We might even have room for Gladstone.” John walked back into the house. Sherlock bent down and whispered into Mrs Welling’s ear.

“Please re-attach the spark plugs.” Mrs Welling grinned and followed Sherlock into the house.

 

“I have some new pyjamas’ I bought for Sherlock if you’d like them Dr Watson?” John looked at them, they’d probably be a bit long in the leg but they’d do. There was no way he was going to sleep in just his boxers with Sherlock. Mrs Welling kissed Sherlock and bid him goodnight at his bedroom door. John walked into the room. 

“Oh my god Sherlock.” He looked up at the wall covered scientific posters, the ceiling covered in glow stars, the bookshelves full with books and music CD’s. It was amazing, an Aladdin’s cave of Sherlock. Then he saw the four Poster bed, so odd in comparison, but so comfortable looking. Huge dark blue velvet curtains billowed around it. Mrs Welling must have opened a window earlier, the cool breeze was refreshing. John smiled. Sherlock put Gladstone on a leather sofa on the other side of the room.

“Help me turn the covers down John. I don’t think we’ll be needing them tonight.” John pulled the blankets down revealing Egyptian cotton sheets, he rubbed his hand along them. They were the best quality, so soft and he was nearly falling asleep on his feet thinking about them touching his skin. John was almost looking forward to sleeping in there. 

Sherlock stood back, undid his belt and dropped his trousers. John turned around embarrassed. He could never quite get used to other people’s nudity, especially Sherlock’s. Mrs Welling had told him that when Sherlock was young it was hard to keep any clothes on him. God he really hoped Sherlock wouldn’t be sleeping naked tonight. He turned around and Sherlock lay on the bed in his silk boxers. John sighed, at least he wasn’t naked. John dumped his bag on the end of the bed.

“There’s a bathroom down the corridor if you need to get changed.” Sherlock rolled over away from him. What could it hurt? Sherlock was facing away Gladstone had seen some of it before. He looked at the new pyjamas, and opened the packet.

 

Gladstone watched as his dad opened a package and inspected the clothes inside. Dad put the clothes down next to him on the sofa. He looked up as his dad started to take off his trousers. Uncle Sherlock was pretending to be asleep on the bed. Gladstone saw the reflection in the mirror proved otherwise. Dad had taken his underpants off, and was stood turned away from uncle Sherlock. Dad slipped his t-shirt off and held it in front of his groin. He walked over to his bag on the bed and got out a spray can. He moved his t-shirt out of the way for a second, and uncle Sherlock let out a sigh. Dad raised an eyebrow and Sherlock pretended to snore. Gladstone wondered how he could do that with his eyes still open. Dad used the can, and sprayed his armpits. Then he put the clothes on.

Dad picked Gladstone up and put him on the end of the bed to sleep, then turned off the light and climbed in. They were all asleep in seconds it had been a long day.

 

John couldn’t remember how he and Sherlock managed to wake up back to back, but he didn’t mind. Sherlock’s bum was pressed up against his and the silk of his boxers felt amazing through the gap between his pyjama top and bottoms.

The bed felt like it was moving slightly, must have been what had woken him up. He kept still, listening. Sherlock’s breathing was hitched and he could feel his arm moving. Was Sherlock Holmes having a wank, in the same bed as him? John’s eyes flew open. Sherlock stopped moving. John regulated his breathing. He couldn’t believe what he was doing, he was actually going to lay there while Sherlock stroked himself. Sherlock started moving his arm again. John almost shivered, the thought itself was actually appealing. But he John Watson was straight, he didn’t like men in that way, and yet his pants were tenting. Was he was a pervert? Either way he would need some serious bathroom time after. Sherlock was moving his arm faster breathing harder, he let out a muted cry. Sherlock pulled away got up and ran to the bathroom.

John turned over looking toward the open door. Did that just happen? Gladstone looked up at him from the end of the bed and wagged his tail. There was something going on thought John, and I bet Gladstone knows it all. He rolled Gladstone over and tickled his tummy.

 

John was sat on the patio eating a full English breakfast when Sherlock materialised. He was very subdued, John had only seen him like that once before. When Sherlock had thought Irene Adler had died. John was no therapist but he wondered if Sherlock regretted what he’d done this morning. He pointed to a pile of toast on the table.

“Breakfast Sherlock, Mrs Welling said you have to eat something before you go or she’ll keep our ‘adorable puppy’.” He looked down at Gladstone who was eating freshly cooked liver and kidneys. Sherlock let out a little smile and sat down.

“Did you sleep well John?” Sherlock asked, John managed not to let anything show on his face.

“I went out like a light, only woke up 30 minutes ago.” He wasn’t lying, Gladstone had cuddled up to him and he’d drifted off again. Sherlock buttered a piece of toast and started to eat.

“She’s telling the truth you know.” Sherlock smiled.

“Who?” John asked his eyebrows rose in curiosity.

“Mrs Welling, she will keep Gladstone. She never cooks me liver and kidneys.” They both laughed.

 

Mrs Welling was there to see them off. She kissed Sherlock on the cheek.

“Mr Welling has had a look at the car and fixed the problem. Don’t ask me what it was, engines and things baffle me.” Sherlock smiled knowingly and got into the car. John put Gladstone into his safety harness and shut the door. He turned and thanked Mrs Welling, she pulled him into a hug.

“Oh.” Said John watching Sherlock laugh in the side door mirror. She pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

“I can see you like him dear, you should tell him. Mr Sherlock likes to look at you, when he thinks you can’t see.” John stood back.

“I should go.” He got into the car and waved as they drove away. Looking up into the driver’s mirror, he saw eyes on at him for a millisecond before they returned to the road.


	2. What Sherlock was thinking.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little addition, what Shelock was thinking in bed.

Puppy Tails – What was Sherlock thinking?

The morning air was cool on his skin. John was pressed into his back, warming it. It was nice not waking up alone. He stretched a little, making sure he didn’t wake John, he didn’t want to loose the warmth quite yet. 

Sherlock noticed he had a morning erection, the main reason he disliked sleep. His body seemed to do what it wanted while he was unconscious. Control was abandoned, dreams he could never quite remember left him feeling fuzzy. Sherlock decided to ignore it, deciding that meditation could remove the urge.

His thoughts wondered again. ‘Bashing the bishop’ that was what the other boys in school had called it. They had made fun of him because every morning he woke up with an erection, he could never seem to hide it. Every morning he would go into the bathroom and resolve the problem, he only had to touch himself and his hand was covered in come. In truth he had enjoyed it. 

John was lying next to him. John, the man who had made it perfectly clear he was straight. The man he loved, the man he’d seen naked for the first time last night. His cock twitched in his boxers. He remembered the curve of John’s ass the fine hair over his body, it was amazing he was beautiful. He’d seen the scar on John’s shoulder, reaching, winding around the top part of his arm. Sherlock wanted to be that scar, be part of John winding around him. Sherlock reached down his shorts were damp with pre-come. He touched the head of his cock taking in a quick short sharp breath. Could he do this here? With John pressed up against him? John’s breathing was regular, he was still asleep.

Sherlock pulled his hand back out of his boxers and spat into it. He put his hand back down into his boxers and squeezed the shaft. He sighed, it was good. He stroked over and over thinking about John’s lips, the feel of his morning stubble on his inner thighs. His hand was soaking now, he was so hard and really close. There was a slight movement on the other side of the bed and he stopped. John’s breathing had changed, he waited for what felt like hours. John’s breathing returned to normal, Sherlock would have to be more careful. John would never forgive him if he was caught in the act. John let out a quiet snore, and Sherlock continued stroking his cock. If only John woke up turned over and took his cock down his throat. Sherlock shuddered and came.

Sherlock suddenly felt a wash of guilt run over him. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom. He didn’t care if he woke John up now, he deserved whatever John could dish out. He managed to get the toilet seat up before he started to throw up. What had he done? Thinking about his best, and only friend like that. Sherlock turned the tap on, took a swig of water and spat it out. He needed to be clean, wash away all the dirty thoughts in his head. He turned the shower on to hot and got in. After scrubbing himself raw and his teeth three times he walked down to the study. One of Mycroft’s Sci-fi books could keep him amused till he saw John again.


End file.
